


Together as the Lights Fall

by nagia



Series: All Yesterday's Stars [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/F, just this side of curtain fic, shoujo ai
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 21:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagia/pseuds/nagia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two lives, woven together. Stars could have fallen and it never would have mattered. A collection of drabbles and flash fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i; wide awake

It's not really wrong  
It's not really right  
I'm wide awake

\--Tegan and Sara, "All You Got"

* * *

(first)

It's three thirty in the morning and her bedroom window slides open almost soundlessly, though not quite. She's aware that something is different, that there's been a noise, before she hears the window slide shut again.

When the lock engages, Tifa sits up in bed, rolls off and comes up with her fists in front of her face.

"Whoah, Teef, it's just me! I didn't want to wake you up."

Tifa runs a hand through her hair, pushes it off her face. She forces a low chuckle. "Well, I guess it's too late for that."

"Go back to bed. I'll just crash on your couch." Before Tifa can say she'll find some blankets, the other woman holds up a hand. "No worries. Just go back to bed."

Yuffie becomes a slipping shadow in deeper shadows. Tifa's door clicks shut, the creaky hinges eerily silent for the ninja. As she settles back into bed, Tifa wonders if Wutaian ninja carry steal Materia.

Tifa does go back to bed. She doesn't quite go back to sleep. It's funny. Tiredness traps her in a half-awake kaleidoscope of memories and thoughts.

She wonders if the woman stretched out on her couch is comfortable, wonders if she broke into the linen closet or if she half-assed it like she usually does. Is she dreaming, curled onto her side? Or is she lying on her back with her hands fisted in the covers, just as awake as Tifa, with strange sleepy thoughts slipping around in those tired gray eyes?

* * *

(second)

Seventh Heaven closes at midnight. By a quarter to, she's itching for her stragglers to leave. Not that she'd ever tell them so.

The door swings open and Yuffie strides in, for once wearing the WRO uniform. She's even carrying a LEO-issue handgun.

"Tifa Lockhart," she says, "I'm requisitioning your bar."

No. That's not right. She jerks. It's quiet and Tifa is sitting in a chair in the kitchen. Yuffie's sitting in the chair across from her, curled around a mug of warm milk that's long gone cold. She's slumped forward, one of those pale gold cheeks resting against the cool wood counter. Her arm keeps her head stable, fingers cupped just a little.

It takes a moment of squinting to realize that it's four in the morning and there's a light on in the hall. She disentangles her legs from the chair legs, gets up out of the seat.

Yuffie's light in her arms. Does she even weigh eighty pounds? And she's tired, too; Tifa remembers a girl who curled up around her shuriken like it was a stuffed animal and woke at the slightest sound. But the girl she's carrying with only a little difficulty--all of it thanks to the fact that Yuffie's only a little shorter than Tifa herself--is sound asleep.

Reeve must work her hard. Not that Yuffie ever admits it. To admit it would be asking for credit, or so she seems to think.

She grunts just a little as she deposits Yuffie on the couch. She's taken to keeping a comforter folded under the end table, just in case. Naturally, there are always pillows about; the children drag things into the living room and never put them back where they belong. At least not without a few gentle reminders.

Yuffie wakes up. Her body jerks in shock, eyes opening wide, before a smile curls her lips into a wicked curve. "Tell me you did not just carry me to your couch?"

"I'm afraid I did," she says.

"You chivalrous knight savior person you," Yuffie says through a particularly long yawn.

Tifa ruffles that short hair before she heads upstairs. She doesn't have any problems falling back asleep.

The next few dreams are a cycle of strange images. The only one that leaves an impression is the sight of Cid and Yuffie in hospital beds while Red tries to convince Barret not to shoot the ceiling. Or the doctor.

When she wakes at seven, Yuffie has Marlene and Denzel up, dressed, and eating sugar-free cereal.

"Morning, sunshine," she says.

"Yeah," Tifa says, a smile spreading across her face, "there is."

* * *

(third)

The bell rings when Yuffie opens the door. She steps through with a smile that Tifa can't help but return.

"The new table's in the bed of the truck." She winks. "Some assembly required."

"I'm sure we can handle it," Tifa says.

"Yeah," says Yuffie, "we're women of the world. Ain't no table going to stand against us!"

The last is a pretty good imitation of Barret. Tifa chuckles.

Twenty minutes later, Yuffie is swearing at her knuckles and has thrown the carpentry mallet across the room. It hits a baseboard and rebounds across the hardwood floor, spins straight into her hand.

"You're really good at that," Tifa says.

"Ninja training." Yuffie gives her a cocky smile, shakes her wrist a couple of times.

It takes another fifteen minutes and a little man-handling of heavy wood before they're even close to done. After that, it's just shoving a few planks around, until they're where they need to be.

Yuffie smiles and takes the carpentry mallet to the table before Tifa wrestles it from her grip. She gives the edges of the table a good hard whack. She has to jerk hard, throwing her back into it, to pull the table apart.

"I'd say we're good," she says.

"Good," Tifa replies, puts an arm around Yuffie's shoulder because she can.

"You going to bounce for me tonight?"

"Asked for the night off just so I could." Yuffie's hand twines with hers for just an instant.

Tifa doesn't crawl into bed until four thirty the next morning. Yuffie sleeps on her floor.


	2. Wedge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exile's sense of "home" is split. (Situation A: Cloud's home.)

She hangs around Reeve's office, tortures him until he tells her to go home. That takes a while.

She flinches and leaves out his window, takes a forty-foot fall with her arms open and her eyes closed. Picks herself up and hangs out in a park until two in the morning.

Two in the morning, two in the afternoon, two homes and two lives, she thinks. If she were stupid, it'd be too easy to let things come between two people. Like certain blonds and the time the kids get out of school and what they want AVALANCHE to know.


	3. Close Your Eyes and Think of Midgar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exile's sense of "home" is split. (Situation B: Torture.)

When she says "home," she alternately thinks of red paint, green tile, blue river, hot sun and a busty bartending brunette in a hardwood floored house. She's stopped saying _tadaima_ and she keeps her shoes on indoors, but she eats her rice plain no soy and she won't kiss Tifa too deeply if she's been eating meat.

Exile can do that to you.

"Why is the WRO spying on us?" says the idiot in charge as he brings a hammer down on her calf. The pain's too big, too vague. It's easy to close her eyes and think of--


	4. Gearing Up for War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are clothes in Tifa's closet that don't belong to her.

There's a very small stiletto in Tifa's closet. Olive green, strappy. Cloud isn't sure how it got there. Its mate is clearly visible in the closet's floor.

What bothers him, though, is the green-gold dress on the thin wire hanger. It's too short to be Tifa's. Now that he looks, Tifa's closet is full of clothes that aren't hers. Shirts in colors the bartender doesn't wear, in styles and sizes she could never fit.

Is this jealousy? Is this concern?

His fingers drift as he pulls out a black leather vest from where it's entwined with a bright yellow scarf.


	5. Discvoery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of "Gearing Up for War." Tifa expected anger, but not this.

Tifa expected anger, but not this. The quiet implosive force of it, the hard edge in his blue, blue eyes startles her.

It's a stupid mistake to make, she thinks. Stupid and selfish to think that it wouldn't hurt anyone. But the choosing was hard and the words to express it were impossible to find.

"Why," he asks, voice sharp and hoarse and stretched thin with pain.

It's not something she could help. Because you were never here, she wants to say. I was always waiting, and you were gone. That wasn't the life I wanted.

She doesn't say anything.


End file.
